


The Art in the Lie

by Jaded



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Celebrity AU, Celebrity Pretend Relationship AU, F/M, Fake Dating, Hollywood hijinks, Kissing for the cameras, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, this fic is my ID at work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-11 07:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11143644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaded/pseuds/Jaded
Summary: Actress Jyn Erso doesn’t actually believe that PR relationships are a real thing in Hollywood anymore, that is, she doesn’t until her agent, Bodhi Rook, informs her that if she is interested in doing the latest film with auteur director, Davitz Draven, she will have to enter into one with her leading man who just happens to be one of Hollywood’s biggest stars--and playboys--Cassian Andor.





	1. The Contract

**Author's Note:**

> On Tumblr, I created a moodboard and then started writing ficlets and head canons for the idea of movie stars Jyn and Cassian engaging in a fake PR relationship while filming a movie together. It somehow turned into, at the time of this posting, 17 different parts, and so I thought, I guess this is a fic now. This is me putting together the story in linear fashion, with additions to the original ficlets to flesh it out.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to tumblr users @frenchloulou91 and @lrthreads for help with coming up with this title!

 

* * *

 “Art is a lie that tells the truth.” --Pablo Picasso

* * *

 

Jyn Erso doesn’t actually believe that fake PR relationships exist in Hollywood anymore until her agent approaches her with that very idea. Of course, she thinks he’s talking about some terrible rom-com script that’s come across his desk or he’s just having a laugh, but he’s dead serious.

 

“So who has been cast as my true love, Bodhi?” she jokes, tossing a script about the friendship between a soldier and his murderbot (and of the course, the woman he loves--the soldier’s, that is, not the murderbot’s) onto the coffee table in his offices. “Someone hot, I hope.”

 

“Cassian Andor.”

 

“Wait, what? Are you for real?”

 

Of course Jyn knows who Cassian Andor is–only one of the most sought-out actors in all of Los Angeles–who has been famous since he was a child for his breakthrough role in a coming-of-age film about a child soldier. As famous as he is for his acting, though, Cassian Andor is also well-known for his playboy ways: a new starlet on his arm every few months, all of them forever twenty-five even as he gets older. But all this talk of a fake PR relationship. She can’t help but wonder . . .

 

Bodhi walks behind his desk and pulls out of a drawer a manilla envelope. Sliding a script out, he hands it into Jyn’s awaiting hands. She looks at it, puzzled.

 

“It’s the screenplay for the new Davitz Draven film.”

 

Jyn gawks at it and begins to leaf through the pages. “He hasn’t done a film in eleven years,” she says of the reclusive but uber-talented and serious director, unable to hide some of her awe. His last one, about a pioneer family in the Dakotas, had been the last movie that had moved her to tears, and she, along with many other actors and producers in Hollywood, had been wondering when his next project would be.

 

“I’ve read it, Jyn,” Bodhi says, crouching down near her. “It’s amazing; as amazing as you’d think it’d be. It has a once-in-a-lifetime role, too: a strong, mess, complex angry woman. It’s a star turn.”

 

Exhaling, Jyn reads the simple title, _The Great Lake_ , and leafs to the first page. Then she frowns and looked up at her old friend and long-time agent. “How the hell did you get this, Bodhi?”

 

“It was sent to me.” He bounces on the armrest of the leather sofa in his office and grins wide. “Ask me why.”

 

“Why?” she asks, her suspicions deepening.

 

Bodhi grins from ear to ear. “Draven wants you for his lead actress! You specifically and by request! His people said he asked for you by name!”

 

“How the hell does he know who I am even?” she asks. And it’s a fair question. She’s a British ex-pat indie film actress whose biggest picture was where she died 40 minutes into the film. Her highest grossing one was a “I gotta-pay-my-bills, paint-by-numbers rom-com about a type A shoe designer with a fairy godmother who helped her win the heart of a type B CEO.” Jyn knows her place in the echelon of stars, and she’s barely treading water on the respectable part of the B-list where she’s more acting chops than marquee star power or eye candy. And as Bodhi is want to remind her, her on-set and off-set behavior hasn’t won her many fans in and out of the industry.

 

“I was told he loved your performance in _If the Shoe Fits_.”

 

“My terrible romantic comedy?” she squawks. “That’s mad!”

 

“That’s auteurs for you,” Bodhi says. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Jyn.”

 

“I cannot believe I am considering this.” She shakes her head and grabs the script, flipping through and reading the first few pages. It’s good. More than good. She feels a lump in her throat by the third page.

 

“Whose idea was this? The PR relationship part?”

 

“Draven’s.”

 

“What?” she yells. It's an unexpected twist in a situation that's already a tangled-up knot.

 

“Method to the madness of a genius," Bodhi says.

 

“I think what you mean to say is that it’s just _pure madness_ , Bodhi.”

 

“It’s like method acting. Look, Jyn. That’s part of the contract if you want and get the part. It’s a few fake dates, some photos for the press. You don’t have to sleep with him. I checked.”

 

“Oh, well,” Jyn snarks. “Thank goodness for that!” Outwardly, she’s all feigned outrage and sarcasm, but her head is swimming. “And what does Cassian Andor think of this?”

 

“He's already signed on, so his agent says. Look, Cassian Andor is Draven’s favorite go-to actor, so he’s a definite for this project, so I have to assume he’s game or it was partly his idea. And I wasn’t given details, but he’s got a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man, and I can only guess that this is a way to . . . change it, too, while shooting the movie.”

 

“Because I’m so not at all his type,” she says flatly, thinking about the leggy blonde models she’s seen with him on the cover of magazines while in line at the grocery store. “And I’m old. Well, too old for him by all accounts.”

 

“You’re only thirty.”

 

“That’s sweet of you to say _only_ , Bodhi, but you know as well as I do that in this town, thirty for a woman is old to be playing everyone’s mum.”

 

“Look,” Bodhi says practically, “Draven and Alliance Studios wants you for this film, and the PR part–-that’ll benefit you both. You guys pretend to be in love while shooting and promoting the film and he looks stable, and well, you try to look stable, too, alright? It’ll soften your image.” Jyn shoots him a nasty look that he absorbs like a sponge does water because they’ve known each other long enough that they both know it doesn’t mean anything except that it’s _her face_ , and continues talking like it was nothing at all. “We’ve talked about the brawling, Jyn. It doesn’t look good on you or anyone. No one wants that kind of colleague on set. And the fans--they’re going to start treating you like box office poison because they can’t separate actors from their roles, especially when they are women. You know how cruel the people can be.”

 

“They called Katharine Hepburn ‘box office poison,’ and she was fine,” Jyn says, though she knows the truth to everything Bodhi is saying.

 

“She also was born rich and had a studio contract, things you do not have. We both have to eat, Jyn.”

 

She gives a harsh laugh, puts a hand on his arm. “You really should get yourself some better clients, Bodhi. I’m going to be the death of you.”

 

Bodhi shrugs, his handsome face switching into a goofy grin. “We’re stuck with each other.”

 

“What does Cassian Andor say about all of this?”

 

“Guess you’ll find out when you do the chemistry read. You still have to audition for the role, but we’ve got you a foot in.”

 

And Jyn wants to flat out say no, that she’s not going to stoop to this level, but the script is amazing, and Draven’s films will be spoken about a hundred years from now, they’re that good, and to be part of that is something she does want. That Draven wants her in it is something she can’t say no to—but it also means she has to say yes to faking a romance with one of Hollywood’s hottest stars.

 

She supposes there are worse things, and she’s certainly made more reckless decisions before in her life, and she’s still here. So she looks up at Bodhi, meeting his eye, and says yes. Then sighing, she asks, “When’s the audition?”

 

+

 

“You signed me up for what?” Cassian barks at Kay when he’s informed about the fake relationship clause in the movie contract for Draven’s latest project. This was just supposed to be a business lunch to discuss his next project, he thinks, not a blindside hit. A tomato wavers on the end of his fork, and he jabs it in the air in his talent agent’s general direction. “How is this legal, Kay?”

 

Kay Tuesso looks at him impatiently. “You gave me permission to sign your name to whatever I found most beneficial to your career, Cassian,” he says dryly. “And I called you and emailed you about this. Repeatedly. Apparently you were too busy galavanting with Emily–”

 

“Amelia–”

 

“Does it matter?” Kay sighs.

 

“They are people, Kay. Amelia is a person.”

 

“The detail is irrelevant to our conversation,” Kay says, leaving Cassian flummoxed. “As I was saying, you gave me final control over contracts, and you’ve made it clear how important it was for you to do this film with Draven. He was insistent that you’d do it, anyway, so I told them yes and signed you up for it.”

 

“And Jyn Erso agreed to this?” Cassian knows some things about the woman who is apparently meant to be his new costar and fake girlfriend, but not enough to ever have actually agreed to something like this himself, especially since the last detail he recalls about her is the on-set fight she had with her last co-star that delayed production for two weeks.

 

“Keep your voice down, Cassian,” Kay hisses. Cassian turns slightly, sees glasses raised mid-sip, a camera phone being not so subtly raised in his direction and telltale fake "click" indicating to him that he'll be all over Twitter by dinner time. “People are watching. They’re always watching you.”

 

“She agreed to this?” Cassian repeats in a quieter, albeit still irritable voice. "Jyn Erso?"

 

“She did.”

 

“And is she crazy?”

 

“But all reports, yes,” Kay says, all seriousness, “but she is empirically a good actress, and I imagine your opposing temperaments would make for good on-screen chemistry. I’ve done the analysis.”

 

“I could just pull out, say no,” Cassian threatens, but Kay just tilts his head and raises an eyebrow.

 

“You saw the script, Cassian. Are you really going to say no to this?”

 

Cassian makes a face, but says nothing, focusing on the tomato and spinach in his mouth instead, working his jaw and his frustrations out at the same time.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kay says, not hiding his triumph. He leans forward, tapping his knife against his glass of water and making the glass sing. “Besides, Cassian, while I am not your PR agent, I am your agent and I would hope, your friend, and this would not be bad for your image.” Kay waves his hand in an arc, as though painting a scene. “‘A wild stallion finally tamed?’ Fans love that story. They might stop calling you Cassian Casanova, too. I know how much you hate that nickname.”

 

“It’s insulting.”

 

“It is what it is.”

 

Cassian feels a pain begin to develop behind his eyes, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, hardly believing that he’s going to agree to this.

 

“Fans love it too when co-stars fall in love,” Kay adds. “I’ve seen the numbers. Your Q rating skyrockets if your on-screen chemistry really clicks.”

 

Cassian rubs his hand through his hair. “So I really have to do it? I have to pretend to fall in love with her? Outside of the movie?”

 

“Yes, Cassian. But it’s all pretend. And you’re good at pretending. Your Golden Globe nomination says as much.”

 

“Will anyone believe that two people like us would ever have a relationship?” Cassian asks.

 

“That’s part of the allure! Opposites attract. And she's age appropriate, solid career on her own. And she's still technically stunning. She has to be to be where she is in Hollywood, let's be frank. I know she’s not your usual type, Cassian,” Kay says, “but try.”

 

“I’m going to have to try very hard, knowing her reputation,” Cassian says. He sighs and pushes his salad away. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

 

“By the way, you’re also going to have to break up with Emily,” Kay adds, motioning to the waiter for a refill of his vodka tonic. 

 

“Amelia,” Cassian corrects. When the waiter comes, he asks for a refill too, on his negroni. He's going to need all the alcohol in America to get over what he's going to agree to next.

 

“Amelia then.”

 

Cassian doesn’t attempt to hide his sheepishness at what he says next. “Already done.”

 

Kay doesn’t even bat an eye.

 

 

 


	2. The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian and Jyn finally meet face to face for a chemistry read and dinner.

 

She’s known Cassian Andor’s face since she was sixteen, five-feet tall on a projected screen, but this is the first time she’ll see it life-sized and in person, and her stomach roils as though she’s on a rollercoaster. It was easy at sixteen to fall in love with a face she thought she’d never see, to see a picture of a beautiful face in a magazine and to press a kiss from her mouth to her fingers to the glossy pages. Now as an adult, at thirty, the inverse is true. The idea of falling in love--real or pretend, doesn’t sit well with her. In fact, it feels impossible.

 

Jyn resents it, frankly, even if she knows she made the choice to sign the contract. She has always known that if she wants to be an actress there are certain compromises that she’ll have to make--her privacy, her sanity, her intake of fats and sweets--though the casting couch has always been a hard no, but a fake relationship? She doesn’t know if it’s a bridge too far or just a bridge she never knew existed and she’s not sure what’s on the other side. It’s possibly both.

 

But she’s meeting him in a matter of minutes and there’s no turning back now. Bodhi is humming nervously at her elbow while they wait for both Cassian and Draven to come into the office for the audition and the chemistry read, and Jyn thinks about bombing it on purpose a she plunks the tiny green leaves off a nearby fern. Yet the script echoes in her mind, the way the way story and dialogue unfolded, and a pang returns to her chest at how it had moved her in a way no other story had in ages, and the “no” sticks in her throat.

 

Cassian Andor and Davitz Draven are both there before she can think about it again, and both she and Bodhi rise from the black leather couch to shake hands and greet one another. There’s a whooshing in her ears and she only feels half there, suddenly nervous; palms sweaty and pulse racing against her throat.

 

“Cassian,” he says, reaching out to shake her hand, all professional graces. _Like colleagues,_ she thinks, _colleagues who have to fake being in love on and off screen._ There’s none of the awkwardness that she had expected, and she feels relief wash over her.

 

“I know,” she says, then remembers to just say her name, and he gives her a faint and polite smile. But her brain begins to blare _abort mission, abort mission_ as they walk into the conference room, but her feet--and Bodhi’s hand on her back--push her forward.

 

Cassian Andor is even more handsome in person than on film, she realizes when she’s three feet away from him. She notices the crows feet around his eyes that crinkle when he smiles, and he’s already smiled more in the few minutes she’s been in his presence than in all the films that she’s seen him in. Jyn finds that it suits him, and for a moment, Jyn indulges in something like hope. Hope that maybe she doesn’t have to _pretend_ to fall in love with him. But it’s a dangerous path and she bashes the thought away when she realizes what she’s thinking

 

Draven doesn’t introduce himself but gets right down to business. “We’re up against the clock here, so if there’s nothing else to talk about, let’s get to the read or else we’re done here.”

 

Cassian Andor shoots her a look, an eyebrow cocked, as if to gauge how she’ll respond to Draven, with whom she knows he’s worked before, and it strengthens Jyn’s resolve not to be cowed--by him or by Draven.

 

“Shall we go then?” she says, reaching out her hand to gesture for him to go ahead of her. It only makes him quirk his other eyebrow, but Cassian Andor acquiesces and walks ahead into the room for the audition.  

 

As it turns out, though, she and Cassian have chemistry. In spades. Jyn loses herself halfway through the read and feels herself become the Laura in the script in the way Cassian becomes Javier, both of them sinking into these new skins. As they continue reading, delving deeper into scene after scene, they find themselves locking eyes, hands gesturing in each other’s direction, genuine laughter punctuating the funnier scenes. A tightness in her chest blossoms like a flower in one of the more intense, emotio nal scenes, and she feels real tears prick at her eyes when Draven cuts in and tells them both he’s seen enough.

 

Draven’s face is smug and pleased, and Bodhi’s leg is bouncing up and down so excitedly next to her when Draven says, “We’ll see you both on set.” He nods curtly to them both as he takes his leave. “My assistants will be in touch with details.”

 

Bodhi hip-checks her and sends her careening toward Cassian, but she’s able to grab the edge of a table and hold herself back from falling straight into his arms. Jyn whips her head around and glares at Bodhi, who only manages the barest of shrugs, less _I’m sorry_ and more _I’m sorry that didn’t work better._

 

“You two should get dinner later!” Bodhi says, clapping Cassian on the back in a too-familiar way, but the impact of his meaning is not lost. “I actually have some reservations set up already at this little place in Santa Barbara. How about tonight?”

 

Jyn feels the air go out of the room, feels the bubble of chemistry between her and Cassian rupture like a pricked balloon and sees his brow furrow and his own expression darken. So much for approaching this organically.

 

And she had _hoped._ She thinks this again, embarrassed for herself now. _How naive of me._

 

+

 

Cassian usually dates pretty and uncomplicated girls–young women on the verge of self-discovery but not ready yet for more in their lives than fun and some light affection. His relationships are always by mutual agreement on these terms, though sometimes there are slips. When this happens, it’s a fond but unregretful goodbye, an it’s not you, it’s me (because that is true in almost all the cases), and then it’s on to the next thing, be it a project or a person or some quiet time on his own to meditate.

  
But it gives him a reputation that he both does and does not deserve, much to his irritation, though as Kay says frankly and bluntly, “No one said you had to be a movie star, Cassian.”

  
And so it’s why he ends up mostly agreeing to the thing with Jyn Erso. In a life spent lying and pretending, what was a little more illusion? It wasn’t as though this would tip the scales somehow, at least that’s not what he thinks at first.

  
“Will anyone believe that Jyn and I would actually be together, though, Kay?” he asks when he’s reading over the contract that Kay signed for him. “She’s certainly against type.”

  
Kay sighs and crosses and uncrosses his long, spindly legs. “That’s the entire point, Cassian. As is the longevity of the contract. To change your playboy reputation.”

  
“It’s it a long shoot. What if we hate each other?”

  
“You’re both actors. Pretend.” But Cassian shoots him a dangerous look, and Kay splays out his hands defensively. “Make it through principle shooting and when it’s over we can give the whole ‘we broke up due to scheduling conflicts’ excuse, okay?”

  
“Okay, Kay,” he says, but something still tingles at the base of his spine. And it feels like a warning.

 

+

 

 

Cassian reads Jyn’s file on the way over to the audition, or rather, her _dossier_ , as Kay had put it, shoving the two-inch-thick folder into his hands just before Draven’s driver had arrived to take them both to the audition. It read half like a Wikipedia page and half like CIA file on known enemies of the state. “Where did you find the time to do this?” Cassian had asked Kay, “And where did you even dig up this information?” But his agent just gave him a deep glare and said, “Does it matter now that it’s been done?”

 

Now, on the way to dinner, Cassian thinks about the stack of shrink-wrapped DVDs of her full filmography back at his coffee table at home and the dossier shoved into his trunk and thinks, _I must be insane to have agreed to this_. Jyn Erso had once reportedly gotten into a fistfight with an A-list star on the set of a big budget superhero film--one that could have made her a household name--and from which she was immediately dropped, and then there was the time that she’d blasted one of her own films during a press tour after studio-ordered editing had recut the film from what she’d claimed to have signed on to do.  She sounds like a nightmare coworker, especially one on such a long filming schedule. And yet.

 

Their read had been fantastic, and she had been polite if not pleasant the whole time. Cassian knows all about undeserved reputations, and he wonders if maybe Jyn hasn’t deserved hers.

 

But that might be the least of his troubles. _Pretend to be in love with her for just a few months_ , Kay had said. _You’re an actor. Act._

 

A text pops up on his phone as he parks the car, and predictably, it’s from Kay.

 

**Try to be flirtatious. There still may be cameras and prying eyes** **_._ **

 

Cassian frowns and texts back.

 

**I am always flirtatious. Isn’t that what I am trying to change?**

 

The interaction puts a sour taste in his mouth, and as he gets out of his car, he sees Jyn getting out of hers. She’s still dressed as she was earlier today except for maybe there’s a little bit more rouge on her lips, and she approaches him rather purposefully.

 

“Jyn,” he starts, “it’s good to--” but she cuts him off.

 

“Are you ready to do this and get it over with?” She takes a deep breath, staring ahead to the entrance and not at him.

 

And Cassian thinks that maybe his first instinct about her was right and that some of her reputation is in fact, deserved.

 

+

 

Cassian is deep into his second glass of wine when Jyn finally cracks her first smile. They’ve been relegated to small talk. Her, questions about what it has been like working with Draven. Him, questions to her about what she found compelling about the script as though he were interviewing her for _Entertainment Tonight_. It’s cold. It’s impersonal. It’s by far the worst “date” he’s ever been on, real or not real. Their earlier chemistry is erased like it was never there, and he cannot wait until the evening is over. Jyn swirls her pasta on her fork for the fifth time without lifting it to her mouth, and Cassian’s already had his crab cake and potato cleared from in front of him.

 

And that is when they see the first diner attempt to covertly take their picture. A flash of light from behind a ficus tree. It’s not subtle.

 

“Smile,” she mutters darkly to herself without smiling, repeating what he images to be a request she’s heard catcalled to her many times over. Her wryness makes the corners of his mouth quirk up despite himself. Jyn tilts chin at him and finally speaks of the elephant in the room. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to tell me to do? Smile and look pretty for the tabloids?”

 

“You don’t seem like a person who enjoys taking directions,” he tries.

 

She lifts her green eyes at him, her expression sharp and shrewd. Anger almost seems to make her relax, and he sees the way the tension drops from her shoulders.

 

“I’m not particularly good at it, as you may have heard,” she replies. “Which is interesting that I chose acting as a profession.”

 

“It certainly is. Interesting that is.”

 

“I don’t like smiling for no reason,” she says. “And I don’t like being told to smile, especially when I don’t feel like it.” She tips back the last of her wine. “So I guess what I’m saying is this: thank you for not being that man.”

 

“The bar is set that low, huh?” he says, and he sees her flash her teeth, the corner of her mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. And he thinks, it becomes her.

 

“It’s practically underground these days,” she says, and the other side of her mouth curls up, and she laughs, a sound much softer than her exterior would have indicated.

 

“Well,” he says as the waiter comes to clear their table and they decline dessert and coffee, “I think we’ve done our due diligence today. It’s not as though we can talk specifics in public.”

 

“That would be unwise,” she agrees. Then he sees her put her face in both hands, muffling another laugh. “What are doing?” she whispers, and a sudden warmth exudes from her that makes him swallow hard.

 

“I have no clue,” he says. “But we’re in this together, aren’t we?”

 

“All the way,” she agrees. And Cassian thinks that this may not be so bad after all.

 

“Let me get the check,” he says when the waiter brings the bill, pulling out his wallet from his jacket pocket.

 

“No,” Jyn says abruptly. “We split it.”

 

He hands over the bill and sees her eyes widen at the total. Her eyes dart to the empty bottles of wine and he sees regret cloud her face.

 

“Let me get this,” he insists. “My treat.”

 

But Jyn shakes her head adamantly, her hair coming loose around her face.

 

“Please,” he says again, reaching for the bill, but she holds firmly to it, and there is fire in her eyes.

 

“If you disregard my opinion, you take away my agency,” she says. “I doesn’t matter if it’s meant well.”

 

Cassian let's go of the bill and sits back in his seat, staring at her, at this defiant, complicated woman, and feels Jyn Erso beginning to work her way under his skin. She’s nothing like anyone he’s known before, nothing like the women he usually dates, and it makes him . . . want to know her better. It’s an unusual feeling, and he chases it.

 

“Well?” she says, the challenge vibrating in her voice as though she’s expecting him to transform into _that man_. But she’s not the only one who is capable of surprises.

 

Cassian leans forward, elbows on the table, feeling himself falling into her gravity. “You’re right,” he says, suddenly not wanting the evening to end. “Can you tell me more? I want to get this right.”

 

 


	3. Cockblocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A first date and a rooster.

 

“This isn’t going to be a Hiddleswift situation,” Kay tells Cassian over the phone. It’s two weeks into the fake dating situation with him and Jyn Erso, and Kay is checking in to make sure his best client remains on his best behavior. Kay and Bodhi have planned out what is to be their first full fake date. All Cassian and Jyn have to do is show up and not hate each other.

  
“A what?”  


“Hiddleswift.”  


“Please stop speaking in binary code, Kay,” Cassian says, running a hand through his hair, “and explain.”  


“How is it possible that you are as big of a star as you are and have no idea what is going on in this town?” Kay says, his exasperation unfiltered as per usual. “Tom Hiddleston and Taylor Swift. They dated, as you may recall.”

  
“I do not.”

  
“Cassian–”

  
“I am as big of a star as I am because I work very hard at what I do, and I don’t spend my time reading the gossip magazines. But continue.” Cassian presses the phone to shoulder and walks over to his closet, picking through his dress shirts, frowning at what Kay had indicated was a need for “Baja casual.” Tonight is to be the their first “for public consumption” date. Fish tacos on Venice Beach, followed by a walk on the Boardwalk, and Cassian isn’t exactly nervous about it. Uneasy might be a better word. But he’s also not opposed to it either-– _it_  being a fake date with Jyn–because they had at least their first get-to-know each other dinner earlier, and she’s intriguing to say the least.  


“I am simply informing you that this contract with Jyn Erso does not require the level of publicity and demonstrativeness of the Hiddleswift relationship, but you still must be seen together and act as appropriate as a romantic partnership. Just refrain from lifting her up into the air and dipping her while you kiss. Subtlety will be the most effective method.”  


“You really sell this to me so well, Kay.”  


Kay harumphs on the phone, then says, “Say, aren’t you running late?”  


Cassian lets out a string of curses and pulls out a plain gray shirt. “Gotta go,” he says, hanging up with his agent before Kay could begin another lecture on his habitual tardiness.

  
+

  
Jyn’s sitting on the front step of her bungalow waiting for him when he pulls up in his car, and flips her sunglasses up on to her head when she sees him arrive. She’s in waist-high shorts, a loose floral blouse, and espadrilles. He brushes his dark jeans self-consciously, thinking she did a much better version of Baja Casual than he did, but doesn’t dwell on it too much. Parking the car on the side of the road, he jumps out, apologizing as he walks up to her.  


“Auspicious start,” she says by way of greeting, standing up.  


“Kay says I need to work on it.”  


“Kay sounds like your mother,” she says, putting her sunglasses back down and shielding her green eyes.  


“He means well.”

  
“Shall—“ she starts, then jumps back, shrieking in surprise as a rooster tears across the front lawn, speeding past her feet. Instinctively, Cassian grabs her by the shoulders and shields her, as ridiculous as it seems in retrospect that she would need protection from poultry.

  
“What the hell was that?” he asks, watching the bird run a circle around a bush before settling in and pecking at the dirt.  


Jyn sighs and shrugs off his hands. He lets his arms drop to his side. “My neighbors. They keep chickens in their yard. This one—he’s a pest. I call him Coq au Vin, though I think his real name is George or something. But I’m fine. He just surprised me.”  


“Is that legal?” Cassian asks. “To keep chickens in Los Angeles?”  


“Apparently. Only one rooster though, per home.” She watches the rooster preen, narrowing her eyes at it. “I get some free eggs out of it if I don’t complain. They’re actually quite delicious.” They make their way to his car, and Cassian opens the door for Jyn. She quirks an eyebrow, as though she’s never had a man open a door for her, but she keeps any comments to herself.  


“Well, I don’t know if Bodhi has informed you of this, but there will be no chicken on the menu tonight. How does mahi mahi sound to you?”

  
+  
  
  
It’s a beautiful evening, and Jyn (but mostly Cassian) are only recognized a few times from the double takes they see as they take their foot to a bench overlooking the ocean. It’s April and though it’s California, as the sun sets it’s still a little chilly.  


“Is this where the photographer is supposed to be?” Jyn whispers, leaning into his shoulder. Cassian unscrews the cap of a bottle of water and looks behind him for the marker Kay told them to look for—a drinks stand with a giant plaster lemon on top.

  
“Yes,” he says, taking a long drink. “But remember, he doesn’t know that we know. We have to act naturally.”

  
“This is some spy shit,” she grouses, not bothering to hide her displeasure. “What are we even doing?”  


“Are you going to back out?” Cassian asks. They only started pre-production and had one read through. It isn’t unheard of for an actor to drop out of a film this early on, but he’s struck by a sudden pang of disappointment at the prospect of a new costar.  


Jyn sighs and folds her arms together, rubbing her arms to warm them. “No. I’m just new to this—whatever this is.”  


Cassian huffs a laugh. “Well, I am too.”

  
She gives a little laugh then and seems to relax. “I guess maybe let’s start by eating? We look odd just sitting here.”  


They chew on their tacos, pico spilling out of the end of his, sauce getting caught on the corner of her mouth. In the distance, Cassian finally spots the photographer, a man in a blue t-shirt and board shorts, a long-range lenses mounted on his Nikon. He cautiously puts his food to his mouth again and says low and careful to Jyn, “I can see the photog. Shall we give him a show?”

  
She almost starts, but eases back into the bench, eyebrow raised.

  
Turning, Cassian takes his thumb and wipes at the sauce on her mouth, letting his hand linger on her face long enough for the photographer to get a clean shot. The look of surprise on her face is priceless and almost makes this whole fake dating scenario worthwhile. But then he feels the swipe of her tongue against his finger and jerks back, surprised himself. She smirks at him and it is infectious—he returns it.  


Nothing had come out about their meal in Santa Barbara. Even the photo of them had never shown up on social media. "There might have been one mention of it on Twitter, but everyone knows you two are shooting a movie together, so they figured it was just a coworker meal. But that's fine," Bodhi says, a little anxious. "We'll ramp it up soon."

 

They finish their meal and wash their hands in the ocean, and on the walk back to the car, she takes his arm, loping back at a leisurely pace. It’s  _nice,_  Cassian has to admit, just talking with her about the job and about nothing at all. Nothing she says is to impress him, and some of it is downright crass and funny, and he racks his brain trying to remember the last time he had a conversation with someone who wanted nothing out of him—and nothing comes up.  


In the car, he finds a zip-up hoodie and hands it to her. “You look cold,” he says, and she looks at him with that appraising way he’s come to know very quickly before putting it on with a short thanks.  


Jyn talks a little bit about her native London on the ride back, marveling at how foreign Los Angeles still feels to her and how much she misses home, and expresses her delight that Draven has some filming schedule at Ealing Studios later in the shoot, so she’ll be able to visit her mother back on home soil. “It’s too bad we don’t have any principle shooting in Mexico. That’s where you’re originally from, isn’t it?” she asks as he pulls onto her street.  


“Mexico City,” he says in affirmative. “But Mexico is much closer than England is, so I get back often as I can.”  


“That’s nice,” she says, taking off the hoodie as he pulls up in front of her house. “My house is here,” she says, pointing to her bungalow, “but home is somewhere else.” She looks wistful, young, and in the darkening light, beautiful in a way he hadn’t really registered before. “Anyway,” she says, opening the car door, “we’ll see tomorrow if the photos turned out, right?”  


She puts a leg out the door, and Cassian undoes his seatbelt. “Let me walk you to the door at least, Jyn.”  


She snorts. “There are no photographers here, Cassian.”  


“I still like to be a gentleman, even when no one is looking, Jyn.”  


She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling when she does, and waits for him to come around to her side of the car to help her out.  


They make their way to her door, meandering as though there’s something they both want to say. There’s all the actual awkwardness of a first date even though it’s all pretend, and at her front step, he’s overcome by the urge to kiss her—for real and not because of some contract. And from the way she looks at him just then, swallowing nervously, he thinks maybe she wouldn’t be angry if he did.

  
But fate intervenes—or rather, Coq au Vin does—squawking as he flies through the bushes toward them, wings beating against their ankles. Jyn and Cassian spring apart, and following the rooster comes a human—Jyn’s neighbor—chasing after the bird.  


“George!” the woman yells as though the chicken has the necessary neural capacity to recognize its name. “Get back here!” She stops short when she sees them standing there, and breathing hard says, “Sorry about that, Jyn. Kes has to repair the coop, and this idiot—“ she says, jerking her thumb toward the rooster, “keeps getting loose. I’m…” and the words die on the woman’s lips before she says, choked, “You’re Cassian Andor.”  


“I am,” he answers.  


“He was just going, Shara,” Jyn says, waving at Cassian. Jyn gives him an apologetic look and he takes the cue.

  
“Right. It was nice to meet you, Shara.” He turns and smiles at Jyn. “Goodnight, Jyn.”

  
“Goodnight, Cassian.”  


 

 


	4. The Rocky Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even fake relationships have their ups and downs.

The first time news leaks about their “relationship,” it’s on a Cassian Andor Tumblr blog. His fans there have been ragging on his past girlfriends for weeks and have been getting bored. But news on Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso though? Costars, too? That’s some fresh blood.

 

At first, they are all for it: “Age appropriate, finally! Someone with her own career and not just famous because of her exes!” But it’s someone’s sister whose roommate worked at the restaurant where they were spotted on their first date, and as the kids say, “Pictures or it didn’t happen.”

 

But then a picture does show up . The two of them holding hands as they leave a grocery store together in Santa Monica. (A carefully crafted bit of PR work by Bodhi, who set up the time and even picked the color of the flowers that would sit inside the grocery bag, and Kay who not-so-subtly tipped off the paps. “What about the fish tacos pictures?” Jyn asks, but that’ll come later in more reputable sources.) And TMZ and _US Weekly_ begin to speculate on “Cassian Andor’s Ardor.”

 

“You have to play it coy now,” Bodhi tells Jyn when the story starts picking up steam. “Pretend to hide the relationship. You don’t want to just put it out there like some reality TV star, all thirsty for attention.”

 

Jyn gives him the side eye. “Two years and LA and the Oxford gets beaten out of you.” She shakes her head. “ _Thirsty_? Really, Bodhi?”

 

He shrugs. “When in Rome.”

 

“This is madness,” she says. “Why did I agree to this? Whose idea was it, anyway? Was it yours? Was it Mothma’s?”

 

“Draven’s, actually, which is why you had to agree to this in order to do the film.”

 

Jyn sits up straighter. “Why does my reputation and Cassian’s l reputation matter to him?”

 

“It doesn’t, but you know these auteur directors. He asked for this because he thought it would. Ask your performances more volition and, uh, intimate.”

 

Jyn let's loose a string of curses. “Ok, fine, so what is done is done. So how exactly do I play coy?”

 

“You’re a good actor, Jyn. Improvise something.”

 

+

 

Jyn’s mother is the first real-life person she knows who asks about her and Cassian.

 

“Did I really have to read about you and your new boyfriend on Google alerts, darling?” Lyra asks when Jyn Skypes her on a Saturday afternoon--evening back in London.

 

“You have a Google alert for me, Mama?” Jyn asks curiously, running her hand along the cool cotton of her duvet as she lies in bed for a chat.

 

“No, I have one for Cassian Andor,” her mother teases. “Of course I have one for you! But that doesn’t mean I don’t know who Cassian Andor is.”

 

Jyn had just meant to tell her mother that she’d be back in London for filming later in the summer; she hadn’t even considered that she’d have to explain the Cassian situation to her or to really, anyone else. It wasn’t as though Jyn had many close friends.

 

“Are you really dating him, dear, or is this just a rumor?” The months of the contract stretch out before Jyn, and she can either spill it all now or really commit to the lie, even to her mother. She chooses the latter, though she doesn’t know if that’s the right or wrong choice.

 

“We’re working on a movie together, that’s all.”

 

Lyra makes a noise in her throat, one of obvious disbelief. And Jyn thinks, pull off the bandage now because it’s going to come out eventually--it has to, that’s stipulated on page six of the contract.

 

“Okay, maybe,” Jyn hedges. “We’ve had dinner together--just as colleagues, but also one little date.”

 

“The fish tacos on the beach?” her mother asks. _So those had published,_ Jyn thinks.

 

“Yes.”

 

“And is he a good kisser?” her mother asks playfully, and Jyn blushes hot and furious. She and her mother have entered _that_ stage in their relationship where they are now also friends, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever be comfortable discussing her love life.

 

“We haven’t yet. Almost, but no.” That’s the truth at least, she thinks, and her heart does a strange little somersault. Jyn doesn’t add, _we didn’t_ _because a chicken got in our way_.

 

“Well, I for one am glad to hear about it. The start of something new is always fun and exciting. And I’m glad you’re back in the saddle, as the Americans like to say. After Alistair, and all the things with your father. . .”

 

Her father. A sore spot for them both.

 

“I don’t want to talk about Papa,” Jyn says.

 

“He didn’t leave you, Jyn,” Lyra says quietly.

 

“He left us both. I don’t care if it was _for a job_. God, that might even be worse.”

 

“It’s complicated, Jyn. Relationships are complicated.”

 

Jyn almost barks with laughter. She wants to tell her mother, _well, even as complicated as my relationship is going to be with Cassian Andor, at least I know what to expect. It’s spelled out in the contract! Not like you and Papa._ But she holds her tongue. And she holds it and holds it and holds it.

 

+

 

Cassian throws a party at his home just as pre-production wraps, so of course Jyn is invited. There’s a bit of a who’s who, including Leia Organa and Han Solo, Hollywood’s current golden couple, or “LeLo,” and a few friends of friends and stylists and producers to maybe leak a little more info inadvertently.

 

Jyn gets on with Leia, but Solo especially.

 

“Kid,” he says, “is it true what I hear about you and Andor?” Han raises an eyebrow and winks suggestively.

 

Jyn shrugs noncommittally, petting the gray pit/lab puppy that’s settled at her feet. “Is someone spreading rumors?”

 

“I could, if that’s what you two are angling for.”

 

“It’s not.”

 

“You could do worse,” the reformed scoundrel says. “And I bet he couldn’t do better.”

 

“It’s one thing to hear about the Solo charisma, another thing to experience it first hand,” Jyn tells him, and that gets her a laugh.

 

They clink beers and Han goes off to find Leia.

 

“Flirting with the wrong actor?” Cassian asks her later when he finds her standing alone in his yard at dusk, gazing at the view that his yard affords.

 

“You saw that?”

 

“I did.” He takes a drink of his vodka tonic. “That’s how rumors get started,” he offers. He’s strangely close to her, drifting dangerously into her personal space, and even more strangely, she allows it.

 

“I hear some people could misconstrue such an innocent thing as a conversation.”

 

“The tabloids would have a field day with it.”

 

“We wouldn't want that.”

 

They stand a little longer together, the quiet punctuated only by the low drone of passing cars and singing crickets.

 

And two days later, the tabloids have their fun, but not about rumors of Jyn and Solo. It’s Jyn and Cassian, a grainy photo of them standing in his yard, bodies too close, watching a romantic sunset.

 

Jyn stares at it and thinks, “There are pictures now, so I guess this is happening,” and wonders if Bodhi or Kay planted someone at the party, or if it was just some enterprising guest doing a little improvisation.

 

+

 

Jyn has a perfectly valid reason to show up at his door the day after Cassian’s party: the rose gold and quartz necklace her mother gave her when she turned sixteen is somewhere in his house, and with them flying out to Chicago in two days for their first location shoot, she doesn’t want to forget about it. On his patio it had caught on her hair on her neck, and Leia had helped her take it off to untangle it. But a distraction--Han Solo throwing a soccer ball into Cassian’s vintage turntable that he had put on the lawn furniture--had distracted everyone. Perhaps Leia hadn’t gotten the clasp on right; and Jyn certainly hadn’t noticed that it was gone until she woke up--the couple of drinks in her system hadn’t helped her memory, either. But she wants it back, and she hopes it won’t take too long to find.

 

To her irritation, her texts and phone calls to Cassian go unanswered, but she’s in the area and figures she can ring the bell and maybe the housekeeper could let her in for a look. In fact, she hopes the housekeeper is the only one there so she can look in peace, but when she rings the door, it’s him. Of course it’s him. And he’s in the middle of buttoning up a dress shirt.

 

“Jyn?”

 

“Sorry!” she sputters. “I called and texted but you didn’t answer . . . my necklace. I lost it here last night.”

 

“Come in,” he says without asking her any questions, without being rude or snarky, and it surprises her, though she’s not sure why. “I’m sorry I missed your call, but as you can see,” he says sweeping his hand, “I’m in the middle of something.”

 

Jyn gapes. His living room is full of _people_. _Strangers. Press. Humans with cameras._ And they can all see her.

 

She circles around Cassian, grabbing his arm and hiding behind his back.

 

“Is this a trap?” she hisses. “We’re not that far into our ‘agreement’ yet to invite the press into your house to take photographs.”

 

“As I recall,” he says, pulling her out from behind him, “you were the one who showed up, unannounced.”

 

“I can come back later,” she says, scooting back toward the door.

 

“Let’s find your necklace, Jyn,” he says firmly. “Look, they’re from a small artsy magazine in Mexico, and no offense, but they probably don’t recognize you. You can search in peace.”

 

“How you can have a party the night before and be all ready for a photoshoot today,” she mutters, and he laughs.

 

“I’m a pro,” he says. “I’ve been at this since I was six years old. Well, not the drinking part.” He eyes her eyeing the photographers and journalist and adds, “Trust me, Jyn.”

 

“Is that in our contract?” she grits.

 

“It should be,” he says, “if it already isn’t.” He shoves her a little bit, his hands firm on her shoulders. “Get in, get out. I’ll keep them busy.”

 

And he does. A makeup artist comes up to Cassian, saying something in Spanish, hair product, powder, and brushes in his hand, and Jyn skirts away into Cassian’s yard.

 

Jyn resist the urge to get down on her hands and knees when after thirty minutes her search yields nothing. The California sun is hot against her face and she misses England desperately in the moment with all its gray skies and seasons. She’s ready to quit when she hears the sliding door open to reveal Cassian, a cold glass of lemonade in his hand. The ice in the glasses clink against the sides as he walks toward her, and he hands her a drink without preamble.

 

“Any luck?” he asks.

 

“Clearly, no,” she says. He’s in a crisp white shirt and navy blazer. The top two buttons of his shirt are open, revealing tan skin and hair, and she chokes down her first gulp of lemonade. “Break from being a beautiful person?” she says, recovering.

 

“They’re moving around the lights,” he says, nodding. “Would you like some help?”

 

Jyn shrugs. “Sure, though I’m about to give up.”

 

So of course, in two minutes flat, Cassian finds the pendant resting near at edge of his yard a the overlook.

 

“How’d you do that?” He places the pendant in her hand, the stone cool, the metal warm from the sun.

 

“I remembered seeing you wearing it last night when we were talking over there,” he says.

 

“Oh.”

 

Jyn fumbles to get it on her neck, the silence between them suddenly heavy, but her fingers feel weak and sweaty and she can’t quite get it.

 

“Can I?” he asks, and he takes it from her gently without waiting for a response. He walks around so that he’s behind her, and automatically she lifts up her hair and feels his arms loop over her head. The quartz pendant settles on her chest and she can feel the warmth of his hands on the back of her neck as he works the lobster clasp. Her chest suddenly feels tight, and she wants to run for the hills--or go over the cliff.

 

“All better,” he says.

 

“Thank you,” she says under her breath as he finishes and steps away from her. “So uh, I guess I’ll be going? See you in Chicago in a few days.”

 

“Ah, yes,” he says, taking another step back. But his eyes are on her, staring. Then there’s the sound of a camera’s shutter and they both jump. It’s the reporter and a photographer.

 

“¿Cassian?” the report says, “¿Estás listo?”

 

“Si, claro,” he replies, waving at them. “Excuse me, Jyn.”

 

But she says, “No, excuse me. I’ll let myself out.” She starts to walk away, then turns halfway across the yard. “Thanks again, Cassian,” she says. He nods, and then she is gone.

 

+

 

For however pretend their relationship is, though, it’s still a relationship—coworkers. Colleagues. And so with any relationship where two people have to spend that much time together, tension and conflict follow.

 

Their first fight is about craft services. He takes the last of the hot water that she wanted for tea, and she chases him down to give him lecture about the importance of her cuppa. He gives her an odd look, squeezing lemon--and just lemon!--into the styrofoam cup, like he’s taunting her.

 

“They can boil more water for you,” he says evenly.

 

“That’s not the point,” she huffs, put off by his lack of anger at her confrontation.

 

Cassian leans in, closing in on her personal space, and he almost jerks away until she remembers there are eyes on her. “Remember, we’re supposed to be pretending to fall in love on set,” he says. “This doesn’t look good.”

 

She grits back, “It’s a enemies to lovers thing then. People love that shit.”

 

He pulls back, but then reaches out and caresses her face, leaving her reeling in surprise. “If that’s how you want to play it.”

 

She finds a Starbucks instead and sucks down a skinny vanilla latte, still fuming, her cheeks still burning.

 

+

 

Cassian feels like he’s forgetting something, but it’s hard to concentrate when Clotilde’s hands sneak underneath his shirt. Cassian feels her fingernails scrape against his skin. His dog, Cesar, strains at the leash, barking, and he faintly wonders if this is a sign that he should really make the conscious effort to extricate himself from this situation where his ex-girlfriend is clearly trying to get back into his good graces _at the dog park_. A very public dog park.

 

When she leans in to kiss him—and he lets her and reciprocates--that’s when he feels his phone buzz in his blazer pocket. Her lips press against his and he slowly pulls away.

 

“I have to take this,” he says to her disappointment. She lingers on a bench with her labradoodle as he pulls out his phone and hits the home button to reveal the lock screen. At first, he thinks he’s seeing things, but no, he’s not. It’s a pic message from Jyn Erso, and it’s a photo of her. With a chicken. A rooster, to be specific.

 

A smile tugs at his face despite himself as he swipes over to his messages and enlarges the picture.

 

“Coq au Vin and I have reached a truce,” she writes, and in the larger photo he can see her glaring at the bird nestled in her arms.

 

He texts back without second guessing himself, any thoughts of Clotilde and her overtures receding into the background. “Clearly he is smitten. Does this mean I have competition now?”

 

Jyn texts back immediately. “Possibly. This very well could be a love triangle.”

 

“Then I guess I must work harder,” he responds, chuckling to himself.

 

“I guess so,” is her easy reply, and when she adds a smiley face emoji as an afterthought, it’s not the round yellow face he sees, but hers.

 

+

 

The second time they butt heads is off set.

 

“You lied to me!” she says at the entrance of his house in the Hills.  

 

“You’re drunk,” he says tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “I’ve seen this before.”

 

“When you said to Bodhi that you couldn’t do join me for this charity drive this afternoon because you were feeling ill, you were, in fact, making out with yet another twenty-five year old at a dog park!”

 

He flushes hot even as he tries to defend himself. “I was getting some air. I ran into an old girlfriend.”

 

“And found her tongue in your mouth?”

 

Even the crickets grow quiet at the pitch of Jyn’s anger.

 

“Are you jealous?” he asks incredulously, and sees her face shift from rage to shock to disdain.

 

“You humiliated me,” she says. “And when this gets into the tabloids, it’ll humiliate me again and again until this contract is over.”

 

“Come inside,” he tells her. “If we’re going to do this, let’s not draw more attention to it.”

 

She’s still furious, but she walks into his house.

 

“The event was important to me, Cassian. And you being there could have given it a lot more attention. And instead, all people are going to talk about when they talk about me tomorrow is not the charity work that I do, but that my _fake_ boyfriend cheated on me.”

 

He hangs his head because he was in the wrong. “I’m sorry, Jyn.”

 

But she’s still burning, her green eyes almost black with rage.

 

“How do I make this up to you?’ He’s thinking maybe another charity event to make up for this, maybe dinner, a show of outward affection that can be leaked to the press--maybe her trailer full of flowers, but she surprises him again.

 

“Don’t think you can just talk your way out of this,” she says, and she leaves, slamming the door shut behind her.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at @operaticspacetrash. I talk a lot about Star Wars, but mostly Rogue One these days.


End file.
